


Is This a Kissing Book?

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Nights in Sandbridge [19]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, School Dances, Teen Romance, parental freakout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-20 11:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: At not quite fifteen years old, Billie is going on her first date, with her friend Michael to his school's spring formal.The only problem is, her Dad found out about it a little sooner than expected...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevedra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevedra/gifts).



> This is a bit of fluff in response to a prompt from sevedra (aint-nothing-but-a-drifter on Tumblr) who wanted to know about Billie's first date.

Tony was sitting on the floor in Dockside’s kitchen, trying to figure out what had gone wrong with their industrial dishwasher so they wouldn’t have to pay for an actual service call, when Billie brought him a glass of ice water. “Here, Dad. You looked thirsty.”

Tony took it, blinking in confusion. “Thanks, buttercup. Did you--”

“Yes, I finished my homework,” she interrupted, though with less impatience for the question than usual. Tony didn’t usually see his teenage daughter before noon on Sunday, so this was somewhat of a novelty. She hoisted herself onto a stool by the staff table, pulled the bucket of silverware closer, and started rolling sets into napkins.

Without being asked.

Tony blinked some more. He sniffed at the glass of water, in case she was trying to prank him and was just lingering in the kitchen to catch his reaction, but it seemed to be nothing more sinister than ice water. He took a careful sip. Water.

And that sip was enough to make him realize that he really was thirsty, so he drank the rest of the water down, then put the glass on the counter. “You, uh. Everything okay?”

“Fine, Dad.” That came with a bit of an eye roll. “I just want to get all my chores done.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you flunking English again?”

“That was _one time_ , an’ I got my grades up before the actual semester!” She kicked at the stool’s leg with extra aggression. She was wearing her keds -- well, one red and one pink one, but at least they weren’t her combat boots, which had left scrapes on a lot of the chairs -- and the tongues were hanging loose, since she never tied her shoes these days. It was the fashion, Tony had been told.

Tony had almost asked if it was also the fashion to trip and fall a lot, before realizing just how _old_ that made him sound and biting his tongue. Teenagers had dumb fashions all the time -- Tony tried hard not to think of his own teen years -- and the world had yet to self-destruct because of it. Mostly.

“Okay, okay, forgive me for wondering why you’re buttering me up,” Tony returned. He leaned back into the dishwasher.

Billie snorted, rolling another couple of packets, then initialing them. “Go on, Dad, keep bein’ suspicious. You’re gonna get _more_ grey hairs.” She finished the sorting and put the tub aside. “Done here. Have fun.”

There was a patter-thud of her sneakers on the floor, that weird shuffle she did to keep her shoes on her feet. Bucky might have to deal with flipflops on the customers, but actual employees better have their damn shoes on. He drew the line at a few things; footwear, crumbs, and leaving water glasses out. “Hey Uncle Bucky,” Billie yelled on her way out. “All done, I’m goin’ t’ meet up with Kendra, yeah?”

“Sure, g’wan,” Bucky said. He pushed into the kitchen with a bucket on one hip. They wouldn’t be open for lunch for a month or so even on weekends, until school let out. The dishwasher had gone out the previous night, so busing had been hit or miss.

Tony listened to the sound of footsteps receding. “Hey, babe. I think the problem is the hot water regulator. I’ll need to pull it and drive into town for a part. You need anything?”

“Probably don’t need nothin’, but if you want some company,” Bucky said, “me an’ Liv are all done with our responsibilities.”

The preschooler -- where did the time go, she’d be starting kindergarten after the summer -- usually sorted the crayons into their jars by color, although she sometimes would hold the dustpan if whoever was sweeping wasn’t in too much of a hurry. “All done,” she said.

Tony managed to wrestle the regulator free of its housing and sat up, narrowly missing bumping his head on the top of the dishwasher. He beamed at Livvy. “Were you a big help, little bug?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, dropping into his lap with a bump. “Big helps. Can we gedda soda? At the Target?” Both of Tony’s children seemed to think everything good in the universe came from Target.

Tony wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss on top of her curly mop of hair. “I wasn’t planning on going to Target,” he mused, “but I suppose if you’re good while we’re at the hardware store, I might be persuaded.” He stretched up and tipped his face up for Bucky to kiss.

He almost got one, too, before Livvy’s hand got in the way. “No, _no_ , this isn’t a kissing book!” Livvy objected.

“Pfft,” Bucky said. He kissed Livvy’s hand, then moved it to kiss Tony, perhaps a little more thoroughly, now that the offspring had objected. Again. It was a thing.

“Mm, nice.” It was possible that the incidence of casual kisses had increased rather than decreased since Livvy had come home from preschool one day recently and announced that kissing was gross and hereby banned. Tony grinned at her exaggerated grimace, and climbed to his feet, tucking her under one arm like a bag of potatoes just to make her squeal and kick.

He moved his water glass from the counter into the sink (it had taken Bucky a couple of years to train that habit into him, but it was pretty well entrenched now) and set Livvy back on her feet. “So Billie was being weird,” he observed to Bucky as he tucked the broken regulator into his shirt pocket for safekeeping.

“She’s a teenager,” Bucky pointed out. “I think weird comes with the territory.”

“Yeah, but she was being _nice_ and _good_ instead of surly or evasive.” Tony considered it. “Except for the crack about my grey hair. That was pretty much spot-on in character.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna be the one what tells her to _stop_ ,” Bucky pointed out. He made a show of peering through Tony’s hair. After the sides of Bucky’s beard came in grey (and he promptly shaved it off, for which Tony was grateful, even if he’d never say that) he’d mostly come to some sort of peace with their increasing signs of aging.

Bucky got Livvy snug into her car seat, before practically throwing himself in the passenger side. “Maybe she’s just in a good mood. Spring break next week. An’ Easter.”

“Baskets!” Livvy reminded them.

“Yeah, Easter baskets,” Tony promised. “Yours will be full of carrots.” He climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled on his seatbelt.

The trip into town was pretty good. Bucky swapped stories with Harry-Rex (who wanted to talk about his grandson, who was about Livvy’s age) while Tony and June tried to find the regulator that Harry-Rex’s system swore was in the store _somewhere_. And Livvy made more work for everyone by helping to sort screws into some of the bins.

They were just headed home when Bucky pulled out his phone, and then frowned at it. “What? Did...  Sharon wants to know what color dress? What?”

“Maybe she texted the wrong person by mistake?” Tony glanced over. “She hasn’t said anything to me about anything she’d need a dress for.”

Bucky thumbed his phone a few times, tucked it away. “Probably meant t’ get Wanda, or Nat. No, you just had a Coke, babygirl, you do not need a milkshake.” He sighed. Give one kid an inch and they always wanted more. Why, Tony wondered, they still wanted food, when they all lived in a restaurant… one day, it might be nice to have them mindlessly begging for furniture, or sunglasses. Something else. Just for variety’s sake.

He tried to distract Livvy from her milkshake obsession by asking her about ballet class with Nat. That resulted in a long stream of rambling babble comprised of a lot of names and words Tony didn’t know, but that was okay, because it wasn’t whining, either.

“Oh!” Bucky exclaimed, then grinned. “Huh, Billie didn’t say anything to me about it. She probably texted your mom. I expect incoming fanatically happy grandparents soon. I’ll just tell Sharon to hold off on the tie, yeah?”

Tony blinked over at Bucky, who was looking at his phone again. “What?”

“Th’ Spring Fling,” Bucky said, like that made sense. “Not ours, ours is in like a month, but th’ Landstown one, which is Friday next.”

“Honey,” Tony said carefully, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you maybe... back up a little, here?”

Bucky waggled his phone at Tony. “Billie’s goin’ to prom. Well, it’s not _prom_ , you know, just a school dance, but it’s a fancy dress up. Gowns and cummerbunds and stuff. With Michael.”

“She’s _what?_ ” It was either a really good thing that Tony was driving, or a terrible thing, in that he really really wanted to take his hands off the steering wheel to grab Bucky and shake more details out of him, but couldn’t.

“It’s a kissing book,” Livvy said, from the backseat, sagely.

***

“She’s too young to be dating!” Tony insisted.

“Mmmm, she’ll be fifteen this summer,” Bucky pointed out. He eyed his phone game, then watched his husband stalking across the room. He wasn’t going to get this level of Candy Crush. He tucked his phone into the charging cradle and rolled up on one elbow. “She’s pretty mature, really.” More than Bucky’d been, at that age. He grimaced. At least Billie was crushing -- if that’s what she was doing, she’d rather fervently denied _crush_ being the operative word at all -- on someone in her own age group.

“Fifteen is _too young to be dating_ ,” Tony growled. “I started dating at fifteen! It was, it was-- It took me _years_ to untangle all that shit with my therapist!”

“You were in _college_ at fifteen,” Bucky pointed out. “This is a completely different situation. This is… a high school dance. They make you leave room for Jesus around here.” That was only about half a lie. The teachers would give a speech about it, but if there was a little obvious grinding, they’d overlook it. So long as there weren’t actually bra straps showing, a little over the waist action wasn’t even out of the question. But what Tony didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt anything.

Tony pointed at Bucky, mouth pulled up into a pout. “I remember being fifteen,” he said. “I distinctly remember being fifteen, and the things I wanted when I was fifteen, the things I wanted from _girls_ when I was fifteen. And it was a _bad idea_.”

“You know if she decides that’s what she wants to do, we can’t stop her,” Bucky said. “I mean, you lock her down, we all end up on _Sixteen and Pregnant_. Kids gonna do stupid things, baby. That happens. This way, I mean, we know Michael, I’ve known that kid since he was on Sharon’s knee.”

Tony’s pout only grew more pronounced. “She can do better,” he sniffed.

Bucky scoffed. “Like…?”

“How about Harley, from Robotics Club?” Tony offered.

“Being _your_ protege might make her less inclined t’ look in that direction,” Bucky said, “but he’s a good kid. So, it’s Michael specifically? Or jus’ you want her to date local at first? Or that he’s about a year older than she is?”

Tony pulled a face. “I don’t know. It’s not really Michael, it’s just...” He huffed out a sigh and pulled his knees in close to his chest. “She’s so young.”

“She is,” Bucky said. He closed his eyes briefly. “You know, we’ve been her parents now for the same amount of time that Becca was.  Seven years, seems forever, sometimes, an’ the rest of the time, I wonder where the time went. Like, how’d we get a teenager and a pre-schooler an’ ain’t neither of them damaged beyond repair.”

“Hell if I know,” Tony grumbled. He dropped his head onto his knees. “This is so much scarier than the time she broke her leg.”

“She is rather unlikely to break her leg at the school dance,” Bucky said. “It’ll be fine. She’s got a ton more sense than either of us. An’ we’re proof that stupid teens is gonna be stupid, no matter what. You had to go off to school an’ find trouble. I found it right here. I trust her a lot more than I trusted fourteen-year-old me.”

Tony let out a wordless whine. “I guess.”

“You can probably get Sharon t’ sign up as a chaperone,” Bucky suggested. “Or, hey, look at it this way.” Bucky rolled all the way over, a smirk pulling up at the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t Landstown Bryan Bain’s school? You could see if Sunset’s chaperoning.”

Tony lifted his head to give Bucky a spectacularly sour look. “Yeah, excellent model of restraint there.”

“Just saying, if you want someone guardin’ Billie’s virtue, Sunset’ll be all over that action,” he said. “You know she still wants to unite the fortunes.” Such a joke. Bryan and Billie were practically joined at the hip, even after a few years of not being on the same soccer team, but they were not romantic. Or, leastways, not as far as Bucky could tell. Bryan had put Billie in the “one of the guys” box and Billie had puked on him at least twice. Romance just wasn’t in the picture.

Tony scowled adorably. “No. Not happening. I forbid it.”

“She’s gonna get married an’ leave us someday,” Bucky mused, looking up at the ceiling. “Or not, she might jus’ follow a career an’ raise like fifteen pets. But she’s gettin’ older. We cain’t stop that.”

Tony flopped over, half on top of Bucky, burying his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. “I know. I just hate it.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Bucky said, stroking his hand through Tony’s hair, feeling the layers shift between his fingers. “This will _always_ be home for her.” He swallowed around an awkward lump in his throat, how much Dockside was home for him, and how little it had been for his sister, and that they’d been able to make this place a home. It was good.

It was hard not to tease Tony, a little, though. Maybe it was a side effect of Tony being an only child; he clung tighter. By the time Bucky was a teen, Ma Barnes had sort of given up trying to direct her kids. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “We can probably keep her from gettin’ hitched until _after_ high school.”

Tony twitched, then lifted his head to stare at Bucky, unimpressed. “I don’t like you,” he announced.

“That’s a no on the blowjob, then?” He made to roll over and turn off the light.

“I didn’t say that.” Tony held tight to Bucky’s shoulder, not letting him up. “I didn’t say that at all.”

“Mmmm, well, then,” Bucky said. “C’mere, you. Things’ll look better in th’ morning.”


	2. Chapter 2

New text from Dad: _How’s the shopping going?_

Billie rolled her eyes and stuffed her phone down into the bottom of her bag so she could pretend she hadn’t noticed the text.

On the plus side, Billie hadn’t had to actually tell Dad about the dance herself. On the downside, the cat had gotten out of the bag a solid week before she’d been planning to tell him. It gave him more time to freak out.

And he was definitely freaking out. Uncle Bucky had gotten him under control, sort of, but he kept _looking_ at her with these wide eyes, and he was checking in on her even more often than usual, and he kept coming over to ask if there was anything she wanted to talk about, and... ug. Parents.

Or parent, anyway. Uncle Bucky seemed to be cool with it all. At least twice, he’d steered Dad away from Billie, tossing a wink back over his shoulder. But why did Dad have to be so... high-strung? It wasn’t even like it was a real date, not really. It was just _Michael_.

“No, not that one,” Grandmama was saying. “We’re quite clear here on the rules, and while I think fashion and rules should not be particularly well-acquainted, I am not at this point prepared to have an argument with someone about spaghetti straps. Two fingers--” she held up her hand, two fingers extended. “Sleeves, my child, sleeves. Find a dress with sleeves two fingers wide. Until then, I’m not even looking.”

Grandmama huffed. “It is _quite_ ridiculous,” she told Billie. “The schools have their rules, and the dress shops should know them, so why do they have so many offerings with the wrong kind of sleeves?”

Billie gave it some thought. “College dances?” she guessed. “Also, like, every school has different rules, practically.” She pulled a satin-and-taffeta gown off the rack and held it up against her chest. It looked a lot like the princess dresses she’d had as a little kid, but nicer. “This one is pretty.”

“Well, perhaps,” Grandmama said. She came up behind Billie and looked at her in the mirror. “Tell me about your boy. We must consider not only what looks good on you, but what he will admire you in. It’s only practice, for now, of course. Your father would not wish to be thinking of the conquests you will make. But you should practice.”

Billie giggled a little. She kind of liked the sound of _conquests_. Even if it was just Michael. “I dunno,” she admitted. “I mean, we see each other all the time at the restaurant, just in regular clothes.”

“Do you think he is… what word do you use? When Antonio was a boy, young ladies were _all that_. I know  _cute_ , _handsome_ … your father’s young woman, Val, tells me that your father is _delightful_.”

Billie twisted back and forth, watching the way the bottom of the dress swished around her legs. “Val’s weird,” she said absently, which was okay, because so was Father. “Michael’s all right, I guess.” She considered it. “I like his hair.”

“A touch golden, I’ve noticed,” Grandmama said. “We should take that in consideration. Red is very good for your complexion, not so much for his. We wouldn’t want him to look sallow in the photographs.” She smiled, smoothing down Billie’s hair, which promptly denied any such action had taken place. “When I was, oh, not too much older than you, I found myself quite enraptured with the back of a young man’s neck. I daresay, I barely even remember his face, save that his nose turned up at the end, but the way his throat moved, and his neck. I was quite positive that I was in love.” She fluttered her hand over her heart. Grandmama was prone to being dramatic, Uncle Bucky often said.

“The back of his _neck?_ ” Billie glanced at Grandmama dubiously, then turned her attention back to the racks of dresses. “What about blue, can we do blue?”

“Certainly, blue is acceptable,” Grandmama said. “But not teal. Teal makes your eyes look very watery. You don’t want to look like you need to be searching for a tissue all evening.” She eyed the rack critically -- Grandmama hated shopping off the rack, but Dad had put his foot down. Billie was not going to a fancy cocktail party, she was not going to dress over the budget of everyone else in town. Grandmama could -- and probably would -- insist on tailoring and alterations, but nothing _exclusive_.

Not this year, at any rate.

Billie put the red dress back on the rack and slipped past Grandmama to pick up a sapphire-blue gown. This one was less _puff_ and more _slink_ , but it had the required sleeves. She held it up. “I like this one.”

Grandmama eyed it. “All right, go try that one on, and come out here that I might look.”

Billie bounced happily and scurried off toward the waiting room. It was a shimmery, sophisticated gown, just like Billie saw in Auntie Jan’s shows. She shrugged out of her t-shirt and shoved off her jeans, then wriggled into the dress.

It felt... not _soft_ , precisely, but _smooth_. Cool and slippery against her skin. It was nice. She had to contort her arms a little to get the zipper up, and then she turned around to look at herself in the mirror.

Wow. That was... _Wow_. Okay, the athletic socks looked kind of weird with it, but obviously she wouldn’t wear those to the dance. She squeaked a little, then pushed out of the dressing room to go show Grandmama.

Grandmama gave her a wide smile, the same sort of smile that Dad had, whenever she won awards at school (not as often as Dad had done, she knew, but sometimes she did okay). “That’s quite lovely,” Grandmama said. “Have you been practicing walking in heels? This is a dress that really should be worn with some lift to it.” She tugged the gown this way and that, setting the waist a little more firmly, and then actually reaching into Billie’s top to arrange the training bra and Billie’s not particularly impressive chest to better fill the front. “And new foundation garments. You cannot wear a sports bra with this.”

Billie let a wordless whine escape. She _liked_ sports bras. They were _comfortable_. “Fine,” she sighed.

“We must all make sacrifices for beauty,” Grandmama said. Case in point, often, Grandmama’s shoes, which were always very pretty and never looked comfortable.

“I know.” She drew it out a little and then let the mirror draw her gaze again. She stretched up onto her toes, which made her actually a bit taller than Grandmama. Maybe a new bra would make her look like she actually had something to _put_ in a bra. “Yeah, okay.”

The little halter-top bra that Grandmama selected, and the underwear to go with it, were actually _black_ and _lacy_ and very, very grown-up looking, Billie decided, staring. They made her feel a little _weird_ , just wearing them. She scrambled back into the dress, covering them up, and once she was zipped up, she had to admit, she looked... Smoother, somehow. Like all the little angles and bends that her body normally did had been polished up.

Two inch heeled shoes that would be dyed to match the dress, and Grandmama pinned her hair up with a simple clip, just to give Billie the “idea,” whatever that meant.

She was looking at an adult in the mirror.

“Wow,” she whispered, lifting her arms and turning, and the lady in the mirror matched her movements, but she looked... Special. “It’s perfect, Grandmama.”

“You are, indeed, my dear,” Grandmama said. “You are, indeed.”

***

“Mom,” Tony said through gritted teeth. He kept his voice low, because Billie had only just gone to bed and she was so obviously _thrilled_ with everything that Tony didn’t have the heart to try to tell her no. But oh _god_ , that dress... “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Many things, darling,” Maria said. Maria Stark-Coulson had, over many years, perfected this supercilious glance. The one that said the other person was being ridiculous, perhaps a little too loud, hysterical, and just bordering on the edge of deranged, but they probably meant well, and their heart was in the right place, the poor dear. She didn’t quite bother to give that one to Tony, just a raised eyebrow, suggesting that he might want to _calm his tits_. Not that his mother would ever, ever say that.

Tony closed his eyes and tried taking a deep breath. It didn’t help much. “Mom,” he tried again, “she’s _fourteen_. Do you really think that dress is appropriate?”

“No plunging neckline,” Maria said. “Back, front, below the knee, and it even has _sleeves_. It meets all the requirements for the occasion. A few pieces of jewelry, and it will be well enough. For Virginia Beach.”

Tony grumbled. “Fourteen,” he repeated. “Aren’t you supposed to be the old-fashioned, stodgy one who wants a high neck and no visible body parts?”

Tony’s stepfather looked up from his phone. Phil had declined, mostly, to be involved in the conversation, which was probably just prudence on his part. “Have you never actually looked at your mother’s wardrobe before?”

“She’s an _adult_ ,” Tony pointed out. “She’s not _fourteen_.” It was a battle he’d already lost, and he knew it. “Is this really what the kids are wearing now?”

Livvy shrieked and ran out from her bedroom, being pursued by Bucky, who sighed, put upon, and scooped their youngest up, carrying her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “One more kiss from your grandmother, and then  _bed_.” That argument, Tony thought, was probably also lost. Livvy would keep getting up until she collapsed on the sofa. Kiss delivered, Livvy was herded back down the hallway.

“She wears her denims and tees, mostly,” Maria said, as if Tony didn’t already know that. “This is a special occasion. I’ve no doubt there will be boys there in jeans and bowties, a few who have their own, badly fitted suits, and a few who are renting, such as Michael is doing. The cummerbund will match, which I think is quite charming.”

“Charming, sure,” Tony said, morose. He intercepted Livvy’s break for the kitchen. “Oh, no you don’t. Even Billie’s already gone to bed. No more for you tonight.”

“Antonio, she is a young lady, and she wishes to be seen as a young lady this one night,” Maria said. “Don’t be such a spoilsport.”

Tony turned Livvy back over to Bucky with a rueful half-smile, then shoved his hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to be,” he protested. “I just...” He collapsed onto the sofa inelegantly. “I grew up way too fast. I don’t want that to happen to her.”

“Antonio,” Maria said, very gently, and a little sad, “you have two fine girls. And you are doing a much better job of fathering them than might be expected. I’m very proud of you. But it is time, a little, to loosen your hold. Your father was always in a hurry to see you fly, for you to live up to your full potential.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like anything Dad did, I should do the opposite,” Tony huffed. “I didn’t even know she _liked_ boys.”

“She thinks his hair is pretty,” Maria said with a faint laugh. “And he is her friend. That is enough, I think, for her, for now.”

Tony sighed. He didn’t know how to put into words this feeling of dread that had taken up residence in his chest.

“Definitely your kid,” Bucky said, finally coming back out of Livvy’s room. “She’s doin’ the rubik’s revenge to ‘get to sleep.’”

Tony couldn’t help the little smile that tugged at his mouth. “I think she’s playing you.”

“Maybe so,” Bucky said. He threw himself down on the couch next to Tony and pulled Tony’s feet into his lap. “So, have you decided which convent you’re sendin’ Billie to, yet?”

Tony stuck his tongue out at Bucky. “I don’t want to lock her up,” he muttered. “I just want her to be safe.”

“She’ll be as safe as possible,” Bucky promised. “We can get her a tiny bottle of pepper spray to put in that bag of hers, if you want.”

“Not the worst idea, actually.” Tony curled up to put his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “I know she’s growing up,” he said. “I know. I know she’s smart and level-headed and takes no shit and she’s... I’m so proud of her I could burst, and I know she’s going to be fine. I just don’t want to let her go. I know I _have_ to, okay. It just feels... so soon.”

“We’ve got three more years of high school, and then college, if she decides to go that route,” Bucky said. “Lots of time. Enjoy it.” He ruffled Tony’s hair fondly. “All this, this was so much more’n I expected ever t’ have, Tony. I ain’t rushin’ it away, but all things, and seasons to enjoy ‘em.”

“Yeah, I know.” He did. He knew, he did, that holding on too long was going to be just as bad for her as shoving her out the door too soon. It didn’t stop him from being worried for her. “You’re supposed to be the one who worries,” he told Bucky accusingly. “How did you foist that off on me?”

“Do you remember when Livvy fell down the stairs? Jus’ rolled all th’ way to the bottom and hit the sand? She screamed like anything. She’d just started with the front baby teeth and we thought she knocked ‘em out right away? I think I died that day. An’... she was fine. I mean, I ain’t never gonna not _worry_ about them, they’re our girls, and all. But it was kinda a hard stop for me, really. They’re… resilient.”

“They are,” Tony admitted. He looked up at Bucky, letting a smile tug at his lips. “We did okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, we did. You did _great_ , baby,” Bucky told him. “I knew you would.”

“I’m glad _someone_ knew that, because I sure as hell didn’t.”

Maria scoffed. “Of course you would do well, Antonio,” she said. “You had only to love them. The rest… well, you are a very good man, and I would be desperately proud, if I thought I had anything to do with it whatsoever.”

“Mare,” Phil started.

“Oh, no, never worry, Philip, darling,” Maria said. “I am quite convinced Antonio would have done things in the hardest way possible, with or without any guidance of mine. But perhaps I can be more what he needed, for his later life than his childhood, anyway.”

Tony laughed, just a little. “You’re... you’re doing fine, Mom. With me _and_ the girls.” He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “It’s a beautiful dress. Thanks for helping her out with that.”

“You’re very welcome, darling,” Maria said. “Philip and I shall get out of your hair for the rest of the evening. Thank you for allowing me to be part of their lives. They’re quite darling, and I love them very much. And you. And you, as well, James.” Maria delivered a set of kisses to cheeks and foreheads, before collecting her husband like he was a parcel and departing. Despite that, Phil never quite seemed anything like a henpecked spouse and more like an amused spectator to everything that Maria did.

Tony got up to wave them off, then retreated to the couch to curl into Bucky’s side. “I’m working on it.”

“You’re fine, babe,” Bucky said. “Think Billie might get too cocky, if someone weren’t fussin’ over her. An’ you know that girl lives for your approval. She loves you more’n anything. That you’re worryin’ over her? She’d never say nothin’, but if she thought you weren’t payin’ attention?” Bucky shuddered delicately.

Tony had to laugh at that. “Yeah, she gets those drama queen tendencies from you.”

“Oh, yeah, I reckon I know it,” Bucky said. “I get a little prickly if you ain’t payin’ attention to me, too.” He nuzzled at Tony’s hair. “We’re good, Tony. We’re all good, here.”


	3. Chapter 3

“But it still smells like the gym,” the girl in front of them was saying to her date, or maybe her friend, or maybe her friend’s date. It was hard to tell, the girl was swiveling her head on her neck like a bobble-head, and complaining at top volume.

On the other hand, she might have been right. There were balloons everywhere and flashing, swiveling lights and an archway to walk through to get your picture taken. People were out, skirting the edge of the dance floor and no one was actually dancing yet, and the music was a fuzzy, pulsing beat under the hum of conversation.

But it still smelled, just a little bit, like dirty sneakers.

Billie didn’t know most of the people -- this was Michael’s school, not hers -- but all school gyms smelled the same. It looked nice, though, with the dim lighting and everyone some degree of dressed up. Every time a girl walked by in a pretty dress, her hair done up and her makeup flawless, Billie felt a little awed and intimidated, just a bit, until she remembered that she was also all “dolled up,” as Uncle Bucky had said.

“No one’s dancing,” she observed. “Anyone here you know, yet?”

Michael, who’d been plucking at his bow tie until it was practically on sideways, twisted around a few times. “Couple girls in my lunch,” he said. “No one wants to go first.” There were a couple of boys down at the far end of the gym who were throwing basketballs and mostly missing. Three or four teachers -- who looked bored -- and a few parents clustered together by the snack table, in a safe little pack, were the only adults around.

Even the DJ was a kid, probably a junior or senior, but definitely a student. They were consulting their phone before selecting another track to play. A few signs in the hallway had advertised a number to text requests to.

Billie stroked her thumb down the side of her dress -- she couldn’t help it, the satin was so smooth and soft -- and looked around again. More kids were coming in; it wouldn’t be long before the dancing really got going. “We could be first,” she offered, grinning. She wasn’t as good at dancing as Uncle Bucky, but she knew a little.

Michael laughed, and for just a horrible second, she thought he was laughing _at_ her, but a double-take showed that he wasn’t, he was just laughing. And there was that little thing -- that little fluttery thing, the same one that had urged her to say yes when Michael asked -- again. “Okay, let’s be first, then,” Michael said. He circled her wrist with one hand and led her out onto the floor.

He didn’t even try to put any other face on it, didn’t edge up from the shadows, but pulled her all the way out into the center of the floor, and Billie could feel everyone looking, they were all _looking_ , and the music was familiar, and Michael knew how to cha-cha, which they’d practiced a few times in the dance sections in PE class last year.

He was counting under his breath, lips vibrating as he went through the steps.

Billie suppressed a giggle and focused on trying not to trip over his feet. This wasn’t her school, so no one who mattered would know if she messed it up, she reminded herself.

A little knot of people from one edge of the dance floor edged forward, a couple of girls dragging their dates along by the wrist, and they started to dance. None of them were doing the cha-cha; they were just kind of jumping and waving. But they were out there, and the weight of stares lightened a little.

And then, like a dam breaking, a whole crowd rushed the floor. Billie grinned up at Michael in triumph. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“I didn’t stomp on your foot,” Michael pointed out. “So, win!” He promptly hip-checked her, just to be a dork, because Michael was just _like that_ , sometimes. When the first dance was over, Michael dragged her over to introduce her to a few of his friends from lunch, including the girls he said she could “go powder her nose with” because that was just what you did.

The one blonde with the pink stripes in her hair rolled her eyes, “ _Nobody_ powders their nose anymore,” she said.

“But girls all go to the bathroom in a pack,” someone else pointed out. That one was Hayley, or Hannah, Billie hadn’t quite caught the name.

“I’m gonna get us cokes, okay? You’ll be safe here, Sue’ll look out for you. She bites when provoked,” Michael said, and then vanished, leaving her alone with a group of people she didn’t know, all of whom turned to look at her.

“So, Michael, huh?” one of the girls asked, nudging her with… suspicion? Jealousy? Or just curious?

“Yeah, I mean, we’ve known each other for, like, forever,” Billie said. She wracked her brain for a safe topic of conversation and almost but didn’t quite turn around to see if Michael was on his way back from the snack table yet. “I like your dress.” That was pretty safe, probably.

The girl swirled around in a circle, letting the hem flare and swish around her legs. “Isn’t it great?” She put one hand up to her hair. “I have like five _hundred_ pins in my hair, and--” she made a face “-- _so much hairspray_.”

“It looks good, though,” another girl said. “Come on, group up, group up, let’s get a picture--” she grabbed Billie’s arm and pulled her in. “You, too!”

Dozens of cameras went off, some with flashes, and some without. There were retakes, because “i was blinking” and “what is up with that face?” “It’s the only face I have!”

“ _Billie_?” a familiar voice said, and Billie turned to see Bryan Bain, his hand on the elbow of a girl wearing a dress that shimmered like a mermaid’s tail.

“Bryan!” Billie squeaked. “Oh my god, I forgot you go here!”

“Wow, look at you,” Bryan said, openly staring. “You look like a _girl_.”

The girl he was with giggled, and then elbowed Bryan in the side. “Rude much?”

“Yeah? Well, you look almost like a person, too.” Billie laughed at the look on Bryan’s face.

“I’m cleverly disguised as an Earthling,” Bryan said. “Be _quiet_ , or I’ll end up in Area 51.”

“Ug, such a nerd,” the girl said. “You’re Billie? Angela. I… yeah, I guess I thought you were a boy. Bryan always talks about you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Michael said, coming up behind them with a plastic cup of Coke in each hand. “Billie’s tougher than any guy _I_ know.” He offered her one cup.

Billie took the cup. “And don’t you forget it,” she agreed, but it made her feel a little weird and wobbly that Bryan talked about her, and that Michael thought she was _tough_. Was that good? It didn’t really sound good. Or maybe it did. She wasn’t sure. She took a sip of soda and tried to figure out what she was supposed to say. The soda disappeared quickly, barely enough in the cup to wet her mouth.

The music changed again, and then everyone was moving onto the floor to dance in a big circle, half girls, half boys, lots of stumbling around, and Billie found Sue pressed up against her, arm going around Billie’s back like they’d been friends forever. “You dance good,” Sue told her, earnestly. “And look at Michael, he can’t take his eyes _off you_.” She giggled again. “Come to the girl’s room, after. You can tell me _everything_!”

Billie laughed. “There’s nothing to tell!” she protested, but she couldn’t help the way her eyes slid to the side to catch Michael watching her, a slightly goofy smile on his mouth.

“Well, then I’ll tell _you_ , because I thought Greg wasn’t going to ask me, I thought--” and Sue started talking about her date, and what he’d said, and what her friends had said that he’d said, and her analysis of his asking her out after English class, but before she could get to French, where there was this other boy, who sometimes--

Billie didn’t know any of the people Sue was talking about, but it was the same kind of stuff a lot of her friends talked about, so she fell right into it, listening with half an ear and offering up encouraging responses. “Wait, wasn’t that the guy you said--” “Oh my god, seriously?” “She did _not!_ ” Sue seemed nice, anyway, and then something in Sue’s story reminded her of the whole _drama_ that was going on at Billie’s school with Kendra and _her_ boyfriend, so she told some of that story.

The DJ made some garbled announcements, thanking the dance committee and calling them out by name, praised the teacher-sponsor, who waved at everyone, and then--

The music turned back on, the lights went very low, and couples headed to the floor, even ones who hadn’t been in on the more bouncy or line-type dances.

Michael gave her a funny, nervous little smile, and offered his hand, almost formal. “Will you dance with me, Isabelle?”

There went that funny little dip in her stomach again, and Billie had to suppress a giggle as she took Michael’s hand. “Okay-- I mean, yes, thank you.” She let him lead her a little further onto the dance floor, a little bit away from the group, and put her arms around his neck like all the other girls around them were doing with their dates.

And oh, that was... he was very close, and very warm, and she could smell his... cologne, or aftershave, or something that smelled a little spicy and... and warm, and... She could feel her face getting hot.

“You look real pretty,” Michael told her. He was speaking right into her ear, and he was-- twisting that little loose lock of hair between his fingers, which was sending tingles all down her neck. “At least three times as pretty as anyone else here. I uh… I mean, like. You know that, right? That I like you?”

“I... I guess?” Billie’s heart was racing, thumping too hard in her chest, and Michael’s leg was brushing against hers every time they swayed and turned a little. “I mean. Really?”

“ _Really_ ,” Michael said, and his hand on her shoulder was a little too tight, warm, and shaking. Like he could possibly be as nervous as she was. Like-- “I call dibs, on you know. Going out? If you wanted to, if your dads’ll let you? Movies, an’ stuff? I don’t know. I just like you. I like hanging out. With you. More than anyone else.”

“Oh.” A million things crashed into Billie’s skull all at once, _Is he going to try to kiss me?_ And _Wow his eyes are really blue_ and _Dad is going to totally freak out_ and _oh my god he likes _me!_ _And that weird little thing in her stomach was turning over and over and it felt like her heart was literally going to climb right out of her body. “I mean, yes, um, okay?” It came out as sort of a squeak. “Movies are nice. I like movies.” She immediately winced, because that was possibly the dumbest thing she could’ve said.

“Okay,” Michael agreed, and he was smiling at her like he couldn’t help it, his cheeks looked like they might actually _hurt_ , he was smiling so hard. “Okay, then, that’s… that’s good, that’s _great_ , I like movies, too. And cheese fries. But you knew that already.”

He twisted that bit of hair around his fingers again, and then--

Very slowly, like he was giving her plenty of time to back up, back away, or even just turn her head and present her cheek, he lowered his mouth toward hers, eyes screwed up tight.

The inside of Billie’s head was a rushing chorus of _oh my god oh my god oh my god_ but she bit her lip, then let it go and leaned up a little, brushing her lips across his, and it was _weird_ but also _exciting_ and she was probably supposed to close her eyes too but she’d kind of forgotten and it was too late because he was pulling away and looking at her again with these big huge eyes like he hadn’t actually expected her to _do_ it, and was she not supposed to-- No, he was smiling again, he was happy, and she was giggling, and behind him, Sue was dancing with Greg and giving her a thumbs-up. Billie giggled again and dropped her forehead to Michael’s shoulder, because she could feel how hard she was blushing. The suit coat was a little scratchy and didn’t smell quite as nice as Michael did, but she could feel _his_ heart pounding underneath, and that was... that was okay. That was good.

 _I have a boyfriend_ , she thought, and grinned into the shoulder of Michael’s jacket.

***

Miss Sharon dropped her off and Michael walked her to the bottom of the stairs and gave her a quick hug, looking suspiciously up at her house, where Billie could just _feel_ her family peering at her through the curtain

“I had a good time,” Michael said. “Thanks for going with me.”

“Me too.” Billie bit her lip and glanced past him to where Miss Sharon was waiting in the car, watching them with one of those grown-up smiles. “I’ll, um. I’ll text you?”

“Okay, great, yeah,” Michael said, and he walked backward to the car, and actually bumped into it before turning around and climbing in. He watched her the entire time Miss Sharon drove away, and then--

“You comin’ upstairs, Cinderella?” Uncle Bucky called out from the porch, where he was leaning against the rail.

“Ug,” Billie sighed. She turned around and climbed up the stairs. “You’re so _nosy_.” At least it was Uncle Bucky and not Dad.

“Yeah,” Uncle Bucky said. “Part an’ parcel of the whole Barnes gig. Your sister’s been waitin’ up for you.” As he ushered her into the house, he wondered, “So, did Michael work himself up to a kiss, or did you get a goodnight handshake?”

“Uncle _Bucky_!” she squeaked, and her whole face was hot again.

“It’s a valid question,” Dad said. He was leaning against the arm of the sofa, Livvy in his arms, but he looked amused and... somewhat less freaked out than he had been for most of the last week. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yes, I had a good time,” Billie said. Maybe if she ignored the kissing question, they’d drop it. She fished her phone out of her little clutch purse and flipped to one of the group pictures they’d taken, holding it out for Dad to see.

“Very nice,” Uncle Bucky said, looking at it over Dad’s shoulder. “We’re glad you had fun, kiddo.”

Livvy wasn’t interested in the picture, and climbed over Dad, across the back of the sofa and threw her arms around Billie’s waist, leaning back in that way she had, where her hair was hanging back and nearly brushing the floor. “I missed you! You were gone forever. _I counted_!”

“She’s not denying it,” Uncle Bucky said, “and she looks pink as posies.”

Livvy looked up at her. “Is this a kissing book?”

Oh god, Billie could _not_ stop blushing. “None of your beeswax,” she told Livvy, mock-stern.

“Boys are _yucky_ ,” Livvy said.

“Well, not all of ‘em,” Uncle Bucky said, giving Dad that special sappy look that made Billie crinkle up her eyes.

Dad was watching Billie, but he looked back at Uncle Bucky and leaned in for a quick kiss before he leaned down to pick Livvy up again. “You just keep right on believing that, ladybug,” he told her seriously. “Come on, time for bed.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand. “Nite Billie - M”

Billie smiled helplessly, ducking her head to try to hide it from her family. She texted back quickly, “Nite M, cya soon”

“Wash your face, get into your pjs, an’ I’ll come help you get out of that hairdo? An’ you can tell me all about it,” Uncle Bucky offered, “if you want to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it -- a sweet little bit of fluff for one of our favorite AUs! If you'd like to see more, please come visit us on tumblr ([27dragons](http://27dragons.tumblr.com/) and [tisfan](http://tisfan.tumblr.com/)) and drop your prompts in our ask boxes!


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